


Pyrrhus in the Bedroom

by shaggydogstail



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Post-Prank, Revenge Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 11:10:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9488513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaggydogstail/pseuds/shaggydogstail
Summary: Remus will be satisfied once he's exacted his revenge.  Won't he?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wildestranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildestranger/gifts).



> Thanks to my betas, sheafrotherdon, laurificus, and raven_feathers.
> 
> Originally posted to LiveJournal as a birthday fic for wildestranger.

JAMES

It’s pity sex, of course. Remus isn’t so addled with lust, so self-centred or so delusional that he can’t see the truth. James offers him comfort, of a sort, because he doesn’t know what else to do, and because Remus lets him think that it’s working. As if occasional hand jobs after lights out could take away the dull, burning ache that festers at the pit of Remus’ stomach, poisoning him from the inside out.

He’s heard stories about phantom limb pain —that amputees can sometimes experience a terrible need to scratch their calves or feel twinges in their wrists. Remus supposes he must be experiencing something similar, because that’s the only reason he can conceive of for the part of him that loved Sirius still hurting.

Maybe he’s taking advantage of James’ good nature, which is a limited quality anyway, but Remus can’t bring himself to care. Even through the fog of Sleeping Draught, regret and tears, he’d seen the flicker of guilt as he’d heaped desperate gratitude on James the morning after. _Thank you, thank you for not making me a killer, thank you for risking yourself, thank you for saving Snape and saving me_. James had shifted and blushed, telling him not to be an idiot. He didn’t say, ‘I didn’t do it for you, I did it for Sirius.’ He didn’t need to.

Outside of the clinical environs of the Hospital Wing, it’s strangely satisfying to make James Potter blush. The unfamiliar pink flush tinting James’ cheekbones as Remus tugs his pyjama bottoms down in the snug cocoon of James’ bed is probably as much embarrassment as arousal, maybe more so, but it doesn’t matter. Remus doesn’t speak, doesn’t try to catch the studiously averted hazel eyes, doesn’t make James ask. Remus gets all the affirmation he needs when James’ cock swells to fill his mouth and his breathing becomes shallow and rapid, punctuated by low grunts as Remus licks a path up and down his shaft, sucks his balls and grazes his teeth lightly over the head. He keeps his hands clear and doesn’t press his own erection to James’ thigh: allowing James his fantastical escape is the least he can do under the circumstances, and it’s not as though Remus doesn’t wish he were Lily too, sometimes. Still, the pulsing heat of James’ cock and the bitter satisfaction of his spunk are real enough, as is James’ strangled cry of completion. (Unlike the Privacy Spells Remus ostentatiously cast on his curtains.)

James is affectionate in his post-orgasmic haze, blissed-out beyond embarrassment, or maybe just very, very grateful. Remus thinks James means the sloppy, wet kisses he presses to his face amid mumbled thanks, and it’s reassuring enough for Remus to relax into the pillows and guide James’ hand downwards with gentle persistence. James is clumsy in his fumblings, but Remus doesn’t care about finesse, just lies back and closes his eyes to the expression of awkward determination on James’ face, and concentrates on the physical thrill of strong, warm hands fisting his cock. He tries very hard not to allow his mind to wander.

It’s pleasant enough, but the sex itself isn’t the main satisfaction. That comes in fleeting glances, muffled sounds, and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it movements. Remus knows that Sirius ducks back behind his own curtains when Remus coincidentally emerges from James’ bed when Sirius is on his way to the bathroom, and he catalogues every pinched expression of pain as Sirius averts his eyes and bites his lip whenever Remus casually rests his hand on James’ shoulder, or casts a smirk in Sirius’ direction. The effect that he has on Sirius is more satisfying than the orgasms, but he isn’t satisfied yet.

Sirius is hurting, that much is evident in the shadows beneath his eyes, and the dull, limp strands of hair that obscure his still undeservedly pretty face. Sirius is hurting _because of him_ , and it gives Remus a rush of bitter pride to see it, for all it isn’t enough. Remus has to keep pushing, over and over again, making sure his footsteps across the dormitory are heavy enough to be heard, and his own moans of an ecstasy he doesn’t quite feel are too loud to be ignored. So far he’s only heard Sirius crying once, so he keeps it up, night after night, hoping that Sirius breaks before James does.

Remus is surprised that Sirius has held his tongue this long: he’s been quietly dreading and anticipating the explosion for weeks. Sirius’ quiet is like the stillness of a cobra—the calm before the storm, the only warning of when he might strike. A fitting simile, Remus thinks, for the child of a Slytherin dynasty who never did quite live up to the pretence. For all Sirius’ rages unsettle and frighten him, Remus thinks he might enjoy this one when it comes. He’s ready for it this time, ready to stand his ground and laugh in the face of Sirius’ fury, to gloat and twist the knife in every wound he can find, and to make sure that Sirius remembers that it’s all his own fault.

And yet, it’s a surprise when it comes. Remus staggers into the Common Room, laden down with the half-dozen textbooks he’ll need to struggle through for the Charms essay that Sirius will scribble at the breakfast table and still get an ‘Outstanding’ mark for, so long as he remembers to scrape the marmalade off the parchment before handing it in. (It’s just another tiny injustice: Remus has spent a lot of time counting Sirius’ blessings recently). For a moment he’s too busy reciting wand movements in his head and trying not to drop anything to notice the two dark heads hung close together, or the way James is leaning into Sirius, spilling secrets in anxious whispers. It’s only when he stumbles, almost dropping the pile of books on the floor that he sees them, just as Sirius glances up at him. James’ head is cast down, that blush on his cheek again and Remus hardly needs to wonder why: the murderous expression on Sirius’ face tells him all he needs to know. Now, then.

It’s a couple of hours later, actually, and Remus has tired of Charms and given up on Sirius, deciding to get ready for bed after all. He’s brushing his teeth when Sirius walks into the bathroom, surprising Remus, his footsteps unheard over the running water.

‘Leave Prongs alone.’

Sirius’ voice is calm and assertive: clearly he hasn’t entertained the possibility that anyone wouldn’t do as he says. Well, why should he? Remus ignores him, spitting toothpaste into the sink and watching the froth and saliva swirl down the plughole.

‘I said, leave him alone.’ Sirius is closer now, sounding a little more angry. _Good_. Remus picks up the tumbler that sits by the sink, fills it with water and rinses his mouth.

‘Did you hear me?’ Sirius demands, grabbing Remus’ arm and forcing him around. The tumbler falls to the ground and breaks, sending shards of glass flying across the bathroom floor, and Remus is glad he remembered to wear his slippers.

Remus wrests his arm out of Sirius’ grasp and turns away, before pulling his wand out of his pyjama pocket to repair the glass, then setting it back down beside the sink.

‘Moony,’ says Sirius, and Remus is pleased to note the annoyance in his voice. 

‘I was ignoring you on purpose, you know,’ he says.

‘Yes, I know that,’ Sirius growls, pulling Remus around again. ‘I’m not going to stand for it, and you _are_ going to listen to me when I tell you to stay away from James.’

‘I don’t have to listen to anything you say anymore,’ Remus hisses. ‘And my sex life certainly isn’t any of your business.’

Sirius blanches and his grip on Remus’ arms lessens slightly for a moment, and then tightens again. ‘It is when it involves James,’ he says. Remus can see that Sirius is struggling to keep his composure, and the calm tone in his voice sounds forced.

‘And why would that be?’ asks Remus, inwardly cursing himself for not being quite able to look Sirius in the eye.

‘It’s upsetting him,’ says Sirius, a slight tone of menace creeping into his voice. ‘So it’s going to stop.’

Remus is actually shocked by that. ‘ _I’m_ upsetting Prongs?’ he says. ‘You’re the one that nearly had him killed, remember?’

That, at least, stops Sirius in his tracks. He lets go of Remus’ arms and his chin falls to his chest. Remus thinks he looks pale, and smaller, all of a sudden. ‘It’s not his fault,’ he says quietly. ‘He feels responsible but…he’s not. Don’t take it out on him.’

Remus swallows quickly, trying to clear his mind. It’s true, of course; everyone knows that James is responsible for Sirius, because Merlin knows Sirius isn’t responsible for himself. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he says. 

He’s a pathetic liar, really.

Sirius looks up again, and grabs hold of Remus’ chin to force him to look at him. ‘You think I don’t know what you’re up to?’ he hisses. His lips are contorted into an unattractive sneer and his eyes are dark with anger and—yes—jealousy. ‘Sneaking into his bed at night for a quick fumble, making sure half the bloody tower hears you in the process. Fuck, Moony, you never used to be such a show-off.’

‘Maybe I never had cause to be,’ sneers Remus.

To Remus’ surprise, Sirius just laughs. ‘Nuh-uh, Moony, Prongs ain’t that good,’ he says smugly, and Remus realises too late that his disappointment must be obvious. ‘You didn’t honestly think you’d beaten me to it, did you?’ Sirius continues, still insufferably self-satisfied. ‘Or did you really think we spent the whole summer playing Quidditch?’

‘I don’t really care,’ Remus lies, earning a snort of derision from Sirius. ‘Everything isn’t all about you, you know.’

‘On the contrary, Moony, this is all about me,’ says Sirius, his voice deadly calm and laden with menace. His hands are on Remus’ shoulders now and he’s pushing him away from the sink and towards the bathroom wall. ‘You’re only doing it to spite me, and Prongs is only letting you because of me.’

Remus shifts uncomfortably, realising that he isn’t as prepared for a confrontation with Sirius as he’d thought he would be. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he says, willing himself to sound scornful.

‘Oh, but I do,’ Sirius contradicts him with a smirk. ‘Prongs told me all about it—about you going crawling to him with your little sob story, how he felt too sorry for you to turn you away. Poor Prongs, trying so hard to be a good friend.’

‘Yeah,’ spits Remus. ‘He is.’

‘And you made sure to take advantage of that, didn’t you?’ Sirius continues, leaning closer to Remus, ignoring Remus’ half-hearted attempts to squirm away from him. ‘How exactly did you talk him into it? “Oh, Prongs, I’m so sad because Padfoot broke my heart. How about a nice blow-job to cheer me up?” Don’t you have any _dignity_ , Moony?’

Remus doesn’t feel dignified with Sirius trapping him in a corner of the bathroom, with Sirius’ breath tickling his neck and the heat from Sirius’ body radiating towards him. He quashes the bitter thrill of panic that twists his guts and forces him to look Sirius in the eye. ‘Why does it bother you so much?’ he asks. ‘Jealous, are you?’

Sirius hesitates, just for a moment, then lets out a bark of mirthless laughter. The sound echoes around the bathroom. ‘Prongs wouldn’t have anything to do with you if he knew the truth,’ he snarls, pushing Remus into the wall. ‘He wouldn’t have done any of it if he knew the truth about us, or that you were only creeping into his bed to get back at me.’

The bathroom tiles are cold against the back of Remus’ head, and that’s enough to bring Remus back to his senses. It isn’t supposed to be like this —Sirius, calm and controlled, while Remus feels himself coming apart, his pulse quickening just because Sirius is near and touching him and…

‘Will you shut the fuck up!’ He pushes Sirius away. Sirius staggers backwards, looking bewildered in the face of Remus’ outburst, but it doesn’t take him long to recover.

‘Leave him alone!’ he says. ‘Just leave Prongs out of it!’

‘Why should I?’ asks Remus, staring back at Sirius defiantly.

Sirius seems to deflate at this, slumping forward so that his forehead is resting on Remus’ shoulder. Fine tufts of his hair tickle Remus’ chin. ‘Because it’s not his fault,’ he answers quietly at last.

‘And whose fault is it, Sirius?’ Remus asks, his voice as cold as the tiles behind him.

‘Mine,’ says Sirius softly. ‘It’s my fault. All my fault. Take it out on me, hit me, hurt me, shout at me, I don’t care. Just don’t use Prongs.’

Sirius looks so bereft, so fragile, that Remus has to take a deep breath and remind himself that he’s furious with him. ‘You’re telling me not to use my friend to get back at someone?’

Sirius at least as the decency to look ashamed. ‘I know, but still…it isn’t James’ fault. He doesn’t deserve this.’

Remus doesn’t even bother arguing: Sirius is too obviously right. ‘No, it isn’t James’ fault, it’s yours,’ he says. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

Sirius blinks at him, but hesitates only for a moment. Before Remus has a chance to realise what's happening, Sirius is pressed against him, kissing him so hard that Remus can barely breathe. He tries to resist, clamping his jaw shut, but his lips curl back of their own accord and Sirius’ teeth clink against his own. Remus struggles to push Sirius away, but while his hands are grappling at Sirius’ shoulders and his feet are kicking Sirius’ shins, his hips shoot forward involuntarily and he’s grinding his erection against Sirius’ body even as he fights to push him away.

_I don’t want this_ , Remus tells himself as Sirius grinds against him, his hands groping roughly up and down Remus’ body. He can taste the sharp tang of blood in his mouth and he’s not sure if it’s his own lip that’s split or Sirius’, far less who might be responsible for those desperate, feral grunts. It’s fast, vicious and hard, and Sirius is harsh and unrelenting as he attacks Remus. Remus hasn’t planned for this at all and it’s wrong, all wrong…

It’s only after he comes, grunting into Sirius’ mouth, and slumps back against the wall that he notices that he’s got one hand tangled in Sirius’ hair and the other buried in the fabric of Sirius’ robes, cupping his arse.

‘Get off me,’ he says. Disorientated in the wake of his orgasm, Remus wants to curse his own weakness. He can’t think straight with Sirius standing so close.

‘Moony…’ Sirius begins. He sounds a little whiny, Remus thinks, and he looks a mess. Clumps of hair cling to his face and his robes are crumpled and hanging off at odd angles. A brilliant red drop of blood glistens on his lower lip, and Remus is embarrassed to realise that he must have bitten him.

Remus doesn’t answer him, just turns on his heel and walks away. He hurries through the dormitory and throws himself onto the bed, pulling the curtains around him and burying himself under the blankets. He’s furious, with Sirius and with himself, feeling sordid, weak and humiliated all at once. Even remembering the dejected expression on Sirius’ face isn’t enough to cheer him up as he settles down to force himself to sleep, with his mind racing and his pyjamas itchy and sticking.

REGULUS

Remus knows it’s over then, even without James’ awkward glances and poorly-disguised avoidance techniques to rub it in. He doesn’t try to push it or make any attempt at rekindling their furtive night-time encounters: he considers himself lucky that James is still talking to him, and doesn’t dare ask how much Sirius told him. Not that he’d get the chance anyway, he reflects bitterly, with Sirius constantly hovering at James’ elbow. As much as he’s angry at Sirius, he’s angrier with himself for using his friend to get his revenge. The knowledge that he used James, who has never been anything but a good friend to him, haunts Remus, as does the realisation that his attempts to get even with Sirius could have cost him another friend. There has to be another way.

It doesn’t take Remus long to find it, and when he does, it’s the last thing he expected, intercepting a group of Slytherins trying to sneak back into the castle after hours. He’s not exactly on first names terms with many of the Slytherin fourth-years, but it’s easy enough to single one of them out.

‘Oi, Black, what do you think you’re up to?’

Remus grabs the protesting boy by the scruff of the neck and hauls him into a nearby classroom, while his friends scurry away like beetles. Remus snorts in disgust and is all set to taunt Regulus about their loyalty, and then he remembers that he’s probably not such an authority on friendship himself.

It’s strangely satisfying, tearing a strip off the younger Black, even though the deduction of house points and threats of reports to Professor Slughorn roll off Regulus like water off a duck’s back. Remus thoroughly enjoys riding his high horse, telling Regulus how arrogant, and thoughtless, and selfish he is, how he ought to learn to watch his step. Regulus listens with haughty indifference, making it abundantly clear that he believes himself to be above Remus’ diatribe. Remus finds he doesn’t care, and presses on regardless.

‘…Stupid, irresponsible behaviour,’ Remus rages, waving his hands in the air dramatically. ‘I suppose you think that rules are just something for other people, do you?’

Regulus rolls his eyes slightly before answering Remus at last. ‘Speaking of rules, shouldn’t you let me go back to my Common Room now?’ he says. ‘Only it is after nine o’clock.’

Remus boggles at him. ‘You really are a conceited, self-important little git, aren’t you?’

‘Tch, Lupin, we both know you find those qualities attractive,’ says Regulus. ‘Unless, of course, you only picked me at random out of a group of half-a-dozen Slytherins?’

Remus is still struggling for a retort when Regulus marches up to him and kisses him. It’s not a particularly bold kiss—gentle and brief—but the smirk on Regulus’ face is enough to drive all reason out of Remus’ mind. He grabs Regulus by the front of his robes, pushes him up against the wall, and kisses him, hard. Remus is sure Regulus was expecting it, which seems like a good enough reason. He’s surprised himself that Regulus doesn’t flinch or try to push him away, and perhaps a little disappointed too.

‘I didn’t realise that molesting students was part of a prefect’s role now,’ says Regulus when Remus finally lets him up for air. He looks so insufferably smug that Remus considers forgetting about kissing and punching his lights out instead.

‘I really don’t care anymore,’ Remus says. Still, he takes a step back, letting Regulus go. For now. ‘All the same, you’d better run along back to your dungeon. It’s getting late and I know you won’t want to miss out on your beauty sleep.’

Regulus just laughs and straightens his robes before leaving. ‘I’ll be patrolling this corridor all week,’ Remus informs him. ‘So I expect you to be on your best behaviour.’

‘We’ll see.’ Regulus winks and him and leaves the room, walking with an affected swagger. Remus finds himself smiling as he watches the boy go. Regulus has no idea how much like his brother he really is.

~*~

Remus isn’t surprised to find Regulus loitering in the same corridor the following night, or the night after that, or the one after that. He’s more surprised that what he said to Regulus really was true: he _doesn’t_ care. A few weeks ago he would have been horrified at the idea of seducing younger boys, particularly under the guise of carrying out his prefect’s duties. But that was…before. His prefecture doesn’t seem to mean so much now that he’s sure that Dumbledore only let him keep it out of pity.

It’s easy not to care with Regulus, much easier than it ever had been with James. Regulus may be young and inexperienced, but Remus knows they’re both doing it for the same reason—to get back at Sirius, and that makes them equal. Besides, why should he care what Regulus thinks of him? It’s not as though he ever liked him anyway. Of course, the only reason he dislikes Regulus is because of the way the snotty little brat speaks to Sirius—the irony of the situation is not lost on Remus.

He knows that Sirius wonders where he goes when he slips out of the common room in the evening, making excuses that he doesn’t expect anyone to believe about extra prefect meetings and study sessions in the library. He can practically _hear_ the clogs turning in Sirius’ mind, desperately trying to work out what Moony’s secret is this time. Remus smirks to himself at the look of frustration on Sirius’ face as he watches him leave—Sirius will never ask, but he’s always hated not knowing.

One day he’ll tell Sirius, whether Sirius asks or not, and won’t _that_ be a shock? Remus entertains himself by imagining the look on Sirius’ face when he tells him, ‘oh, I just fucked your brother,’ as he makes his way down the stairs to the empty Potion’s classroom to meet Regulus. He hasn’t actually fucked Regulus yet—in fact, he hasn’t got particularly far with Regulus at all—but that doesn’t matter. It’s the principle of the thing that counts.

Regulus is messing about with a cauldron and a small stack of potions ingredients when Remus arrives. He seems nervous, fussing with daisy roots and moving things about on the table, and he starts when Remus slams the door shut behind him.

‘When you asked me to help you with your potions homework, I didn’t think you really meant it,’ says Remus with a sly smile. He picks a shrivelfig up off the table, turning it idly between his fingers. ‘Unless you think you might need some sort of a Virility Potion to keep you going?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself, Lupin,’ drawls Regulus. ‘I hardly think I’ll need much help to keep up with you.’

Remus lets the shrivelfig fall. ‘Is that so?’ He’s on the other side of the table in two quick steps, grasping Regulus firmly by the arms and kissing him. Regulus whimpers as Remus’ lips cover his, and he wriggles rather charmingly beneath Remus’ grasp. Regulus’ veneer of confidence is thinner that his brother’s, or maybe Remus is just better at spotting it now.

He walks Regulus backwards as he kisses him, until Regulus backs into the blackboard, flinching as his he bumps his head. Remus doesn’t stop to apologise for the knock, just turns Regulus around, guiding his wrists to make him brace himself in position. He doesn’t bother to undress properly, just pulls his robes and pants aside enough to free his cock, rubbing it against the rough fabric of Regulus’ robes.

‘Are all your family such desperate sluts, Black?’ he asks as he hoists Regulus’ robes above his waist.

‘Why, is everyone you sleep with desperate?’ Regulus answers, pushing his arse back to rub against Remus’ prick.

Remus just laughs and runs his fingers through the smooth strands of Regulus’ hair, soft jet-black and gleaming. From behind, he’ll probably look almost exactly like Sirius.

The door to the classroom slams, making Remus jump. For a moment his stomach twists in fear and he lets go of Regulus as though he’d turned into a hot coal. He hardly dares turn around as he hears footsteps marching across the room, paralyzed by the knowledge that being caught like this by a teacher means almost certain expulsion, and this time he only had himself to blame.

Remus’ terror turns to surprise, then confusion, and finally anger when he looks around and sees not the thin lips and snorting nostrils of Professor McGonagall, nor the wheezing malicious triumph of Filch catching students out, but Sirius lighting a fire under the cauldron with his wand and poking around the array of herbs and plant roots on the desk.

Regulus regains his composure before Remus does. ‘What the fuck do you think you are doing?’ he yells. Remus thinks his anger might be more impressive if his robes weren’t still bunched up, his now flaccid cock dangling forlornly beneath a rumpled shirt.

‘I’m making…’ Sirius continues to shuffle the paraphernalia on the table, frowning slightly, before picking up a sprig of lovage with a triumph smile. ‘Befuddlement Draught!’ he announces triumphantly, and sets about slicing the plant.

Regulus’ expression is thunderous. ‘Would you mind getting out of here?’

Sirius looks up from the cutting board and regards Regulus with an expression of indifferent disdain. ‘Would you mind putting some clothes on? Not that it isn’t anything I haven’t seen before, but all these bits on display don’t exactly improve my concentration.’

Remus pulls his own robes back down hurriedly, horrified to realise that, unlike Regulus, he’s still shockingly hard. ‘What _are_ you doing here?’ he manages eventually, his voice an angry whisper.

‘Moony, can you not hiss like that?’ says Sirius breezily as he tips the chopped lovage into the cauldron. ‘It’s very distracting, especially when I know there’s a serpent in the room.’

‘Very funny.’ Regulus sneers, his bottom lip jutting out unattractively. Remus is struck by how _young_ he looks next to Sirius, and suppresses a shudder. ‘Now kindly piss off out of here and leave us alone.’

‘No, I don’t think I will.’ Sirius picks up a pestle and mortar as he speaks, and starts grinding a handful of scurvy-grass into a soggy pulp. He appears supremely unconcerned by the expression of outrage on Regulus’ face, or the dumb-struck horror on Remus’.

‘I said go away!’ Regulus shouts, throwing his arms up in the air. ‘Why can’t you just leave me alone? You always ruin everything.’

Sirius ignores him, which only serves to make Regulus even angrier. Remus just watches both of them, confused and slightly alarmed at the almost farcical situation unfolding in front of him. He’s angry at Sirius’ intrusion, of course, but also intrigued: he knows Sirius well enough to realise that Sirius’ air of purpose and beatific calm are a sure sign that he is up to something—but what?

He’s so enthralled in watching the two brothers, and Regulus is shouting so loudly that none of them notice the door opening again to reveal the rotund figure of Professor Slughorn. It’s only when the professor announces his presence with an affected cough and a cry of, ‘now then, boys,’ that the three of them turn to look at him.

Slughorn walks up to the table, clearly curious to see what Sirius is up to. ‘Now, would one of you care to tell me what was going on? I got a message that young Master Black here was in trouble, and from the way I could hear him from half-way down the corridor I didn’t doubt it!’

Regulus’ scowl grows even more pronounced, but Sirius smiles warmly. ‘I can explain everything,’ he begins. Remus barely hears Sirius’ explanation—some cock and bull story about Regulus doing extra potions study and his own ineptitude—he’s too busy glancing between Sirius and Regulus, putting the pieces together in his mind.

He feels sick as the truth dawns on him: Regulus set him up. Remus casts his mind back to what Slughorn _would_ have walked in on if Sirius hadn’t interrupted them, a creeping sense of horror building up in him as he realises just how bad it would have looked, with him pushing Regulus up against the blackboard and Regulus squirming beneath his touch.

‘—lucky thing I arrived when I did.’ Sirius is in full flow when Remus manages to tear his attention back to the present. ‘Just _look_ what he was about to add to Regulus’ potion!’ Sirius holds up the shrivelfig, eliciting a chuckle from Slughorn.

‘No wonder your brother’s friends were frightened for his safety,’ Slughorn says, beaming with mock-indignation. ‘Would have blown the whole classroom up if he’d put that in. Good job you arrived to save the day, Sirius, m’boy.’

_Isn’t it just_? Remus thinks bitterly.

Slughorn awards ten points to Gryffindor for Sirius’ potions-making ability and orders the three of them to clear up when they’ve finished before leaving the room, still chortling under his breath at the idiocy of trying to add shrivelfig to Befuddlement Draft. Sirius stands perfectly still until the sound of his footsteps down the corridor fade away, and then turns to Regulus.

Regulus opens his mouth to speak, but doesn’t have the chance to get the words out before Sirius’ fist slams into his jaw, sending him crashing backwards. Regulus’ lip is bleeding, his face flushed red and he’s clutching onto the table for support. Remus can’t bring himself to feel sympathetic.

Sirius doesn’t say another word, just shoots his brother a scornful glance before turning away, not looking at Remus. Regulus is still reeling from the punch as Sirius turns on his heel and marches out of the door, slamming it behind him. Remus’ eyes flit between them, and in a moment his mind is made up and he scurries out of the classroom after Sirius.

‘Padfoot!’

Sirius walks on, ignoring him.

‘Padfoot!’ Remus hurries down the corridor, running to catch up with Sirius. ‘Sirius, wait, please.’

But Sirius doesn’t stop until Remus catches the sleeve of his robes, pulling him back just as Sirius is about to turn a corner. The expression on his expression is so cold, and so full of rage that Remus takes half a step back and wishes he hadn’t bothered.

‘What?’

‘I…I just…’ Remus stumbles over his words, realising that he doesn’t know what he meant to say to Sirius.

‘What exactly were you hoping to achieve?’ snarls Sirius. ‘First James, then my brother—are you trying to fuck me by proxy or something? Or have you just stopped caring how much you hurt anyone else, even yourself, just so long as you get back at me?’

Remus panics again, so overwhelmed with anger, and shame, and confusion, that he couldn’t answer the question even if he wanted to. It isn’t right, isn’t fair that after everything Sirius can still get the upper-hand like this. 

‘I hate you,’ he blurts out eventually; a clumsy verbal blow, but it’s the best he can manage.

Sirius shrinks back, crumpling in on himself. He looks so defeated that Remus almost wants to say that he didn’t mean it, but Sirius turns and runs away before Remus can say anything at all.

SIRIUS

He doesn’t see Sirius for another three days. Sirius isn’t in the dorm at night, nor does he appear in classes or at meals, and if James knows where Sirius is, he isn’t saying anything. James produces a string of inventive lies about Sirius’ absences for their teachers, and Remus can’t quite pluck up the courage to ask him the truth. Not that he really cares, of course.

It’s humiliating, having to feel that he should be grateful to Sirius, knowing that without Sirius’ intervention he’d likely have been expelled, and would certainly have been publicly disgraced. Remus wonders if he isn’t going slightly mad, so consumed with anger and hatred for Sirius, hell-bent on revenge that he doesn’t know how to extract, that he scarcely recognises himself anymore. Fooling around with James had been bad enough, but there was no real harm done ( _because Sirius put a stop to it_? he wonders), but Regulus? Bad enough that he was all set to fuck a fourteen-year-old boy, but how could he have been so fucking _stupid_?

The anxiety and the shame of it all is enough to fill Remus’ mind until it’s time for it to be overturned by more pressing matters; the upcoming full moon. There’s still no sign of Sirius on the day of the full moon, and Remus kicks himself for feeling so disappointed and so hopeful all at once, looking up instantly every time the dormitory door creaks.

He’s fastening up his boots to go downstairs and meet Pomfrey for the trip out to the Willow when James stops him with a not-quite-comfortable clap on the shoulder.

‘Do you want me to bring him?’

Remus is so cross with himself for almost saying yes straight away that he says, ‘no,’ more harshly than he meant to. James just shrugs, looking vaguely pissed-off, but apparently can’t be bothered to argue. He lets Remus go without another word.

~*~

The clock on the wall of the hospital wing reads half-past-one when Remus wakes up, his muscles aching and his stomach turned by the foul potions Pomfrey poured into him that morning. Blinking in the early-afternoon sun, Remus pulls himself up onto his pillows and reaches for the glass of water he knows will be on the night-stand.

He’s groggy and exhausted, so it’s really not his fault that it takes him the better part of ten minutes to notice that Sirius is sitting in the chair on the other side of his bed.

‘Hello, Moony,’ Sirius says quietly.

Remus whips his head around to look at him, startled. The sudden movement exacerbates his pounding headache and he claps his hand to his forehead, rubbing his thumb over his temple. ‘What do you want?’ he says sourly.

Sirius doesn’t look the least put-off by Remus’ unfriendly welcome. Before Remus can stop him, he draws his wand and points it at Remus’ head, muttering softly. The pain recedes almost immediately, leaving Remus with nothing worse than a strange float-y sensation.

‘Thank you,’ he mutters tersely. ‘What do you want?’

‘I wanted to tell you…’ Sirius trails off, worrying his lower lip. He looks tired, Remus notices, with dark shadows under his eyes and his hair hanging limply around his face. ‘Look, you don’t need to bother anymore, all right?’

Remus knows exactly what he means, but he’s too tired, achy, and generally pissed off to admit it. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘James?’ says Sirius. ‘My _brother_? Fucking hell, Moony, where are you going to stop?’

‘Maybe I like it,’ shoots Remus with a sarcastic smirk.

‘Well, that’s just it, isn’t it?’ says Sirius. ‘You don’t, I know you don’t, and you don’t care how badly you fuck yourself or anyone else over just to get back at me.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Yes,’ says Sirius resolutely. ‘You know it is. Anyway, that’s not the point.’

‘No?’ asks Remus caustically. ‘What is the point?’

‘The point is, you don’t need to bother,’ says Sirius, his voice suddenly quiet again. ‘So you can stop carrying on like this. You don’t need to get revenge on me anymore.’

‘And what makes you so sure of that?’ Remus glares at Sirius as he speaks, angrily staring him down.

‘Because I still love you,’ says Sirius simply. ‘And it’s obvious you’re never going to care about me again.’

Sirius stands up, the chair scraping across the floor as he does so. ‘It’s over, Moony,’ he says. ‘You won.’

Remus stares at him, open-mouthed, as Sirius turns and walks out of the hospital wing.

_You won_.

He supposes he should feel triumphant.

~*~

It might have been over then, and for several months it probably was. Sirius returned to the dormitory, but kept his distance from Remus, and Remus kept it in his pants. They spoke only occasionally, and the melancholic expression that Sirius wore whenever he thought no-one was looking was all the confirmation Remus needed of his victory. It ought to have made him feel better.

It didn’t.

~*~

‘Right, Moony, we need to talk.’

Remus looks up from his homework, blinking in surprise. In all the time he’s known James, he’s never once heard him open a conversation with ‘we need to talk’. This can’t be a good sign. 

He sets his books aside and sighs. ‘I didn’t think you were into heart-to-hearts.’

‘I’m not.’ James sits down on the end of Remus’ bed, grimacing. ‘But I can’t leave things as they are. So it was either this or kill you and Padfoot to put you both out of your misery.’

‘I’m not miserable,’ Remus lies automatically.

‘Don’t think I’ve completely discounted the killing you both option yet,’ says James warningly. ‘It’s only the prospect of having being stuck with Wormtail for company that puts me off.’

Remus just raises an eyebrow at James, not wanting to give him any encouragement.

‘See, the thing is,’ James continues, ‘I’ve been talking to Padfoot about…you and him.’

Remus’ heart beats a little faster as he recalls the almost-lies and half-truths he’d told James about his… _thing_ , with Sirius all those months ago. _Just a bit of fun, Prongs, lots of people do it…No, of course this isn’t about him… Don’t worry; it’s not a big deal_. All to get into James’ pants. To get back at Sirius.

Yeah.

‘He, um, talked to you?’ Remus gulps.

‘Well, I did most of the talking, Padfoot just sulked and swore occasionally,’ admits James. ‘I got the gist of it anyway. You weren’t exactly honest with me.’

Remus just looks down and fiddles with the end of his quill.

‘You aren’t exactly honest with yourself, either,’ adds James.

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means you’re an idiot,’ explains James patiently. ‘You’ve spent the last few months doing every stupid thing you can think of, just because you think you need to get your own back on Padfoot.’

Remus shifts uncomfortably. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand.’

‘I know you don’t, which is why you don’t get that I _do_ ,’ says James.

Well, of _course_. James Potter knows everything after all. Remus bristles angrily. ‘Do you now?’

‘Yes, I do,’ says James, still with that infuriatingly patient tone. ‘See, the thing is…you’ve done a top-notch job of making Padfoot miserable as sin, and you’re still not happy, are you?’

Remus doesn’t answer. It’s not like he could come up with a half-way plausible lie.

‘Which leaves the question, who are you really punishing?’ asks James. ‘Sirius, or yourself?’

‘And why would I want to punish myself?’ 

James shrugs. ‘Fucked if I know why. But I _do_ know you’ve done enough. Give it up, Moony.’

Remus just slouches down, not looking at James. He ought to tell James to get off, or list the many, many reasons why he’s way off-beam. He can’t actually think of any of them at the moment, though, and he’s just so _tired_ of it all.

James’ hand is warm and solid on his shoulder, reassuring somehow. The contact seems strangely unfamiliar, and it takes Remus a moment to see the reason why: it’s been months since anyone touched him to express affection, rather than manipulation, playing games, or trying to get something out of it. Not since Sirius…

‘Talk to him,’ says James softly.

Remus nods dumbly. Not that he’s got the first idea what he’s going to say to Sirius.

~*~

It’s a few more days before Remus has both the nerve and the opportunity to approach Sirius. It’s a Hogsmeade weekend, and Remus stays behind while James and Peter head off to stock up at Honeydukes and find new and interesting ways to harass Evans. Sirius has detention in the morning, but by mid-afternoon Remus fully expects to find him sulking on the roof of the East Tower, staring out over the Forbidden Forest.

The climb out of an Arithmancy classroom and over wobbling roof-slates is perilous enough, though Remus isn’t sure how much of the sickness at the pit of his stomach is vertigo and how much of it is due to nerves. It seems oddly fitting that trying to approach Sirius should involve quite literally risking life and limb.

He’s guessed right, though, and Sirius is perched on the edge of the roof, his feet dangling precariously over the edge. Only Sirius would find somewhere that carried the constant threat of plunging to an early death a good place to relax. Remus inches towards him at a snail’s pace, letting out a sigh of relief when he finally sits down by his side.

‘Hey,’ Remus manages at last. He still hasn’t thought of anything better to say.

Sirius turns and looks at him, his expression wary. ‘Hi,’ he says. ‘I take it you’ve not come to shove me off the roof, then?’

‘No.’ Remus takes a deep breath. ‘I wanted to talk to you.’

‘Right.’ Sirius is still watching Remus with a curious expression. ‘You know, you don’t have to talk to me just because Prongs told you to.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ says Remus. ‘But he was right…about a lot of things.’

Sirius doesn’t answer him, just quirks an eyebrow.

‘You were wrong though,’ Remus goes on. ‘That day in the hospital wing. You said that I’d won. I didn’t. Or if I did, it wasn’t worth it.’

‘Yeah, well, I won that argument with Snivellus,’ says Sirius, smiling bitterly. ‘That wasn’t worth it either.’

‘Why did you do it?’ It’s the question Remus wanted to ask from the start, but was too afraid of what the answer might be. He doesn’t feel like there’s anything left to lose now.

‘Because I was angry,’ says Sirius. ‘Because I thought it would serve him right to get a bit of a fright and he’d get off our backs.’

‘Right.’

‘I’m sorry, Moony, I don’t have a good excuse,’ says Sirius. ‘I lost my temper and I didn’t think it through. I never meant to hurt you, though.’

‘Well, you did,’ says Remus.

‘Look, what do you want me to say?’ replies Sirius testily. ‘If I’d been force-fed Veritaserum or Imperio’d I’d have mentioned it at the time. I can’t…I can’t make it better with _words_. I could make excuses or beg for forgiveness, but what difference would that make? It’s not going to change the fact that I fucked up and you hate me for it.’

‘I don’t hate you,’ said Remus quietly.

‘Then why did _you_ do it then?’ retorts Sirius.

There’s a long silence before Remus can answer. ‘I don’t really know.’

The silence is even longer this time, broken only by the sound of birds flying around the turret and the wind whipping over the castle. Remus can’t bring himself to look at Sirius, far less to speak, and he’s beginning to wonder if this wasn’t his stupidest idea yet.

He’s surprised by Sirius edging towards him, more so when he turns to see Sirius smiling at him.

‘So,’ Sirius asks, the inexplicable smile quirking his lips. ‘You wanna kiss and make-up?’

Remus boggles at him. ‘You really think it’s that simple?’

‘It’s as simple as you want it to be,’ says Sirius. ‘You can carry on having your revenge, or your pride, or whatever else it is this is all about. Or you can have me. Your choice.’

It really isn’t much of a choice at all.

Remus stands up, leaning back a little to keep his balance as he brushes the grit off his robes.

‘Come inside,’ he says, extending a hand to Sirius. Sirius looks at him, uncertain, but accepts his hand and follows Remus inside anyway. The touch of Sirius’ palm against his own makes Remus shiver, and it’s almost a relief to let go so that he can crawl back in though the window.

The classroom seems dark after the brilliant sunshine outside, a little musty and old. Remus straightens and turns to see Sirius emerging through the window after him, making a poor attempt at seeming nonchalant.

‘Why in here?’ asks Sirius, leaning up against one of the bookshelves that line most of the room. A fine cloud of dust billows behind him.

‘Because I was afraid I might plunge to my death if I did this out there,’ says Remus.

He takes a couple of steps until he’s standing directly in front of Sirius, close enough to see the flush of colour on Sirius’ cheeks even in this dim light. Making a Herculean effort to dispel the million and one doubts, anxieties, and questions in this mind, Remus leans forwards and kisses Sirius.

Sirius kisses him back almost immediately, warm and deep, his arms wrapped around Remus’ waist and shoulder, as if trying to keep him from backing off.

‘You,’ Remus mutters against Sirius’ lips. ‘I’d rather have you.’

Sirius loosens his grip on Remus, though it seems to pain him to do so.

‘Are you sure about this?’ he asks. ‘I mean, after everything…do you really think you and me is a good idea?’

‘It was _your_ idea,’ Remus reminds him.

Sirius just raises his eyebrows.

‘OK.’ Remus laughs. ‘It’s a terrible idea.’

Sirius’ hands fall to his side, and he slumps against the bookcase, limp and dejected.

Remus reaches out and touches Sirius under his chin, tilting his head up to face him.

‘Let’s do it anyway.’

‘Yeah?’ Sirius’ eyes light up, and the smile on his face does more to lift Remus’ spirits than any revenge or retribution ever could.

‘Yeah,’ Remus agrees, pulling Sirius towards him.

They kiss slowly, with roaming hands and gentle, almost hesitant caresses. Sirius’ hair is warm from the sun, soft and silky around Remus’ fingers, and his body is warm and solid against him. Remus takes his time reacquainting himself with the taste of Sirius’ mouth, the texture of his skin, and the way his breathing hitches when Remus touches him. It’s honest and familiar and exhilarating all at once, and the part of Remus’ brain that is still capable of coherent thought decides that the warmth of reconciliation is infinitely more satisfying than the cold comfort of vengeance. Touching Sirius feels like coming home, the prodigal lover returned from the wilderness.

‘ _Moony_ ,’ Sirius whispers against Remus’ skin, his voice awe-struck and rich with affection. Remus holds him close and kisses him over and over again, convinced at last that _this_ , after all, is a victory worth having.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also shaggydogstail on [tumblr](http://shaggydogstail.tumblr.com/)


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